A Sword and It's Shield
by Aurora-Boring-Alis
Summary: Silque is a devout cleric from Novis who helps everyone else but herself; Jesse is a lax mercenary who loves two things - women and freedom. After a risky run-in with some brigands, Jesse escorts Silque back to Zofia Harbour, albeit with a few complications... [Jesse and Silque. Bridges the Flirt and the Faithful and Echoes together. Slow burn-friends to lovers.]


_Part One:  
_ _The Humble Servant (Follower of Mila, Silque)_

* * *

" _Silque, my darling._ "

Her mother's voice was soft and sweet; honeyed like a singer, yet firm as a high queen. Silque had always thought her as such: as enigmatic as a songstress, yet as just as an empress.

"Mother?" The child said. It was dark outside, only shadows of the two and the dim outlines of the flat earth and tall gross they waded through. The sound of waves lapping at the shores of the land was the music to the night. It reminded Silque of a story her mother had told her once. She had said the tide was kisses, a sign of love from the sea to its' beloved sand. The girl was confused, her gaze on her mother, looking for guidance. She desperately wanted to see a bright smile on her face, the way her gaze softened as she beamed. Even the ghost of a smile would have been welcomed by the child. But in its stead, there was nothing but darkness and shadows.

"This will be your new home." Her mother said, breaking the silence between them. She clutched Silque's hand.

The crunch of sand and gravel was beneath their feet and the humming of crickets on the air. "It seems lovely... But what about Rigel?" Silque asked quietly.

"Dearest, I ask that you forget of Rigel."

"But what about our journey?" She asked, confused by this sudden change of direction. Her mother had said that they were passing into Zofia for only a short period of time and then returning to Rigel. From there, Silque had thought, they would return to the church her mother worked at and return to normal life: life before this great pilgrimage that had both worn them out so.

Her mother sank to her level, taking her hands. Briefly, under the shadow of her hood, Silque saw her mother's face. The regular rosy blush of her cheeks had disappeared and her eyes were glassy and hollow. "We finished it. And now Father Duma wants to reward you dedication for your to him." She said quietly. Her voice dipped even lower. "But you must not mention Rigel, or the Father."

"But why?"

"All I may say is that it will be for the best, dearest." Her mother replied, swallowing fear. She took her daughter in her arms, clutching her tightly.

Her embrace was haunting. It was too tight, almost taking the breath away from the child. She smelt of sweat and dirt, the scents that reminded Silque of their long pilgrimage across Rigel. Even today, she still did not understand why they had gone on such a journey. She'd asked multiple times, and with every passing question, the answer got hazier.

The first time, her mother had claimed it was just to collect donations and supplies for the church. Then it was a quest for enlightenment from Father Duma. Then, she'd mentioned someone named Mila… She had said the name feveriously, as if she were angry and confused at the same time. Finally, her mother had said it was a pilgrimage. When Silque asked the meaning of the word, her mother had tiredly sighed and said it was a divine task sent to them from the Father.

For a moment, fleeting and brief, Silque thought of life back at the church. Of the other children she played with and met, of the prayers to Father Duma she'd given, of all the happiness she and her mother had there. Her mother... she'd always looked bright and happy, offering any help she could to anyone. Often, she remembered her mother, exhausted from healing or praying with Rigelian soldiers who had turned up through the night. And yet, all that time at the church her mother had managed to put on a smile and work ever harder, as if nothing were wrong. But now... Now that was resolve and power was gone. And in the stead of Silque's mother, a woman stood, another being crippled by the war that the Divine Dragons had inflicted on their poor people.

"Mother?" Silque forced out.

"My mission is not yet complete. Father Duma still has work for me. I must..." She stopped, almost scared. She held Silque tighter for a moment before her grasp faltered. She stood, towering over the child. "I must leave."

"When will you return?"

It was a question that went unanswered. Silque's mother instead walked ahead. The child hurried after her, towards the edge of Novis until they saw a small light on the edge of a small hill. The sound of the waves were distant now. The air thick, too thick to breathe. Her breath caught in her throat and tears upon her face, she rubbed the cuff of her robe against her face to erase the streaks of tears. Silque's mother knelt before her and clutched her daughter once more. "Take this ring to the sage Nomah. He will train you to become a cleric." She said, tying a cord of velvet around her neck. The cold metal hit the front of Silque's dress, glinting in the dim light. "It is my wish for you, my darling."

"But mother–" Silque said, sniffling. Tears washed over her face as she reached for her.

Suddenly, the woman rose to her full height. The dim glow of the priory illuminated her silhouette, cutting her out like an angel from heaven. And those words, uttered from her mouth like a prayer haunted Silque for ages to come: "May the blessings of Duma be upon you forevermore, Silque." She said before disappearing into the night.

Silque stood stock still as she watched her mother disappear down the hill and into the shadows. She blinked a few times, thinking that this was all but a jest and her mother was going to return. Tears pricked at her eyes, running down her cheeks before she let out a sob. She ran in the direction that her mother had gone, the light from the priory slowly becoming more and more distant. The young child sobbed as made one last dash in the direction of her disappeared mother. She fell down the hill, her feet heavy from all the walking. As she got up, hiccuping tears, she saw the dull glow of the priory, just a short distance away.

Slowly, she got up and carried her tired body to the haven. The lights had all but gone out in the span of time it had taken her to walk across the field. She held the cord around her neck uttering short, breathy prayers to Father Duma, asking for guidance and her mother's return. Her voice went silent as she reached the priory, climbing up the steps. Silque reached up to the great doors, knocking her small fist against the large wooden door. She waited, tired and wide eyed until the shadow of a tall being filled the doorway.

Silque shrunk back, hand flying to the ring around her neck. "Hello? Oh!" The shadow said, lighting a lantern.

"W-Would you be sage Nomah?" She asked weakly.

"Yes." He said. "And you are, young one?"

"I am Silque. My m-mother–" she began before being swallowed by tears again.

"Mila have mercy on your poor soul," The sage sighed. He opened the door to the priory wider, holding his hand out to the child. "You must have seen something awful, young one. Here, come in and worry not. We will care for you now. This is your home."

* * *

And a home the priory had become for her. While she missed the church and her mother and Rigel, she had all but found new light in her life. The priory was just as loving and welcoming as the church back in Rigel, and the Zofians were extremely kind to her as she settled into life. Yet, no one could relieve the lasting ache of sadness that Silque's mother inflicted upon the child.

While among the others, Silque put on a facade as her mother had done. She always shared a smile, displayed a positive attitude and shared her prayers with those who needed it more than she. She endured the pain of abandonment and loneliness on her own.

No one had been sure of what happened to her mother, not even Silque. She often speculated that she returned to Rigel and the church she had worked at. But as Rigel grew tougher and constrictive, Silque feared that her mother had been sacrificed to Duma, as she had been a member of the Faithful... The thought of her beautiful and kind mother, a saint in the cleric's mind, becoming a witch terrified and sickened her.

Saved by another saint, Silque began to follow Mother Mila. The faith lessened the burdens left on the girl's shoulders and she found herself, once again, happy – or as happy as she could be. Mila was a kind and virtuous goddess, far more lax and loving than Father Duma ever was. Silque was eager to follow her, and soon was trained as a cleric. She was often sent on many journeys back onto the mainland, helping soldiers burdened by the war and assist small villages out of turmoil and back to their feet with other priests and clerics. Of course, the pirate scourge made matters difficult, but with dutiful prayers and provisions to Mila, their clergy always returned safely to Novis.

Her journeys had slowed over the winter though. When most ships were docked for the cooler months and passage became harder to arrange, Silque remained on the island, helping to train young clerics and priests. Now, spring was upon Novis and with it, the tensions in Valentia had only worsened, thanks to the dwindling supplies and further distancing of the gods to the people.

In these times, she prayed for the safety of the Valentians and return of both Mother Mila and Father Duma. _This plight has bitters both parties_. Silque thought sadly. _I pray it ends soon before ruin befalls Valentia_.

The cleric had gone into the town earlier that morning, collecting new threads and materials for sewing clothes for the needy. She carried several skeins of yarn and cloth and new needles in a basket on her arm. In the distance, she saw someone on the hill of the priory. They were too tall to be one of the children, and it was much too early for Boey or Mae to be out.

She climbed up the little hill, a smile spreading across her face as she saw sage Nomah sitting on a crumbling stone bench. His eyes were closed and his hands rested on his lap, a book and his staff to his left. "Good morning, sage!" Silque said as she stood before him.

Nomah's eyes opened slowly and he gave a smile to the cleric. "Ah, sister Silque. I pray the Mother has found you well on this day." He said. He stretched, taking a deep sigh in and sat up straighter.

The cleric bowed her head, clasping her hands together. "I pray the same to you, sage Nomah." She said, standing up. "How fare you?

"Well. I saw you leaving early this morning for town and I thought I would wait for you."

"I'm surprised. I thought I would be the only one in the priory up this early." She giggled. She sifted through her basket, pulling out a spool of soft blue cloth. "I handed out extra provisions on my way into town. I got some extra materials to make clothes and blankets for the new clerics and priests."

"How thoughtful. We are lucky we have you to keep our priory running so smoothly sister." He said, rising to his feet.

"You flatter me, sage." Silque smiled, returning the spool to the basket. She began to walk back to the priory.

"Might I ask your audience for a brief moment? I have a pressing matter I speak to you of." Nomah called.

The request caught Silque by surprise. She turned back towards the bench. "Oh. Of course, sage." She said as the elder gave her a gentle smile. He moved his book and staff to his side allowing the cleric to sit down beside him.

"Sister, there has been many a journey you have travelled to the mainland. And before even that, you spoke of your pilgrimage to the Mother's temple." Nomah lamented. "But I fear I have a task for you, one more... daunting than the last few we have sent you on."

Silque set her basket at her feet. "Is it passage across Zofia?" She asked.

"Very close." He said. "I ask that you return to the mainland, only for a few brief days."

"Oh." Her brow furrowed. "But what of the pirates? I thought they plagued the seas even more than last year."

"I fear they have not lessened even in the final days of Wyrmstym. However," he said. "this is an urgent mission I have for you."

"Urgent?"

"Yes." Nomah said, his gaze peeling from Silque to the sky. "It concerns the safety of Valentia, not to put pressure on you, but to extenuate the importance."

"I follow." She said. Her brow furrowed again, her forehead creasing as she spoke: "Sage Nomah, I mean no disrespect when I say this, however – must it be I who leaves the island? I thought you would be sending Boey or Mae to do this task in preparations to assist Lady Celica."

"I take none, sister Silque." Nomah said. "But you must go on this journey on your own. Boey and Mae do not have the rationale or temperament you do. They are needed here, to train with their spells and grow stronger for Celica. Besides, you are an incredibly competent traveller and know the Zofia mainland better than anyone else in our clergy."

"I understand... But still." The cleric murmured.

"Dear sister, please." Nomah said. "This is a journey that you alone must travel. It is a trial sent from Mila."

"Truly?" Silque asked, awestruck by the audacity of his words. A trial from the Mother herself? Not to mention, that it was a trial for she and she alone.

The sage nodded. "I saw it in a vision she sent me, using this." He said. From his robes, he drew a silver trinket which glimmered in the sunlight. It resembled a watch, yet it was too sublime to merely tell the time. "This is Mila's Turnwheel, a relic of the Mother. Some of her power is still in it. It can show visions of what the future is and can be, and Mila has shown me a possible path we may head down."

The sage took the cleric's hands from her lap. He gently placed the Turnwheel in her grasp, closing her fingers around it. Her eyes focused on the relic, her hands parting to show the face of the device. She looked to Nomah. "What has the Mother shown you, sage Nomah?" She asked.

"'Tis nothing to fret over. However, it still is not a little matter." he said. "All I may tell you, for fear of scaring you, is that one of my old friends, Sir Mycen needs this. He is bound to return to the front lines to fight Desaix's men and retake Zofia."

Silque's eyes widened. "Retake Zofia?" She asked, ludicrously. "Then the pirate scourge would end! We would be able to end Grieth's rule!"

"Yes, but only if he gets this. It is imperative that Mycen receives the Turnwheel before he leaves."

"Of course." She said, clutching the Turnwheel tightly to her chest.

"Mycen is kin to the Bearer of Brand. He will pass on the Turnwheel to him, and in turn, he will save Valentia from strife."

"All of Valentia? Not just Zofia?"

"Yes." He said. "Zofia is not complete without Rigel, and Rigel is not complete without Zofia. And the power needed to remedy this war lies in the Turnwheel. This is your trial Silque: deliver this Turnwheel to Sir Mycen as soon as possible. It must reach Mycen or the Bearer before nightfall on the fourth of Flostym, to be precise. Time is of the essence and I fear you cannot tarry for long."

The cleric nodded. "Where is the my destination?"

"It is a small settlement in Zofia's most southern point: Ram Village. There is a ship bound for Zofia Harbour this afternoon and I have arranged passage for you. It will take you as far as the Harbour, and I'm afraid you will have to walk the rest of the way." He said. A smile spread across his face. "But I have the utmost confidence in you, sister."

"It will not be a problem. I will take care of this. " Silque said, reminded the pilgrimage she accompanied her mother on. Her fingers closed around the Turnwheel. The device, somehow, felt familiar and nostalgic, as if from a lucid dream she had once long ago. The cleric bowed her head in solidarity before rising to her feet and collecting her basket. "I will seek Mother Mila's blessing and prepare. Thank you for this trial, sage Nomah."

"Thank not me, but the Mother." He said, giving her a sincere smile. "And Silque–"

"Yes?"

"The Mother has shown me a vision of you meeting the Bearer." The sage rose, taking a step towards her. He rested his hand on her shoulder. "The possibility is slim, but should you meet him, it is of great importance that you aid him in his quest to free Zofia."

"Aid the Bearer?!" Silque exclaimed, aghast. "B-But sage Nomah, I've never seen the front lines, and I don't think I could do any Rigelians any harm..."

He held his hand up. "Then do not harm. Heal instead and grant the soldiers the love and blessings of Mila. For what is any army without faith?" Nomah asked, raising his head and giving a small chuckle.

Silque frowned, brow furrowing. "I suppose." She murmured.

"Now, make haste and complete your preparations." He said. "There is not a moment to waste."

"Yes." Silque said, bowing her head.

"May Mila protect you on your journey, sister. I pray for your safety and success."

"Thank you, sage Nomah." Silque said before rising to her full height and leaving the sage behind. She felt the Turnwheel warm and heat in her hands, the ridges of the devices creasing her fingertips. The gold on the edges shimmered and sparkled in the brilliant light of the sun. The Turnwheel looked as something more precious and divine than life itself. Two arms carefully ticked away at the time, clocking every second that passed. _I wonder,_ thought Silque. _How long has this device counted the time? Centuries? No, surely millennia or more..._

She tucked the device into the sleeves of her robe, securing the cord around the belt of her skirt. The cleric entered the priory and hurried to her quarters, mindful of her footsteps and careful not rouse anyone or interrupt morning prayers. She left the basket of materials on her bed, looking fondly at it. _Until my return._ She thought as she she packed a few provisions, her staff and a blanket into a satchel. Hoisting the bag onto her person, she walked from the dormitories, out to the gardens. Watched by a young-looking sage, a group children tended to their growing vegetables and fruit. Silque hurried to the Mila Idol, reaching it in spared time. She fluttered in, not noticing that Celica was in the middle of offering prayers. She stopped in the doorway as the priestess looked up.

"Oh, Silque. Good morning." She said pleasantly, standing up.

"Good morning to you too, Lady Celica." Silque said, adjusting her grip on the strap of her bag. "I apologize for the interruption, I did not mean to intrude."

"Do not worry. I was just finishing with my daily rites to Mila." The priestess glanced at the bag on her shoulder and staff in her hand. "Are you perchance leaving the island?"

"Yes. I was given a mission by sage Nomah. I have to deliver something to Ram Village."

Celica's eyes narrowed as she drew her hands to her chest. "Ram Village? In southern Zofia correct?" She asked anxiously.

"Yes." Silque said. "I'm surprised that you would know of it, milady."

"I only know of it because of rumours... Apparently a high-status general has taken up hermitage there." The priestess swallowed. She forced a smile. "Well, I wish you luck. I hope your mission goes accordingly."

The cleric bowed her head. "Thank you, Lady Celica."

"May Mila's divine protection shield you." Celica said before turning to exit the idol room.

The cleric rested her belongings towards the wall of the room. Silque, now alone, knelt before the statue, clasped her hands together and shut her eyes. "Mother Mila, please, keep my soul safe and guarded on this mission to Ram Village. I ask for safe passage and fair weather as always." She spoke. "Grant me the power to heal those who need it, the might to strengthen the meek and the resolve to help Zofia. I request also that you walk with me throughout this journey and bless me with the comforts of your bountiful and calming presence. I am but your humble servant."

She paused for a moment, her eyes opening and focusing on the feet of the idol. She sighed before continuing: "I thank you for this trial, and I promise, with all of my being, that I will see this task though, no matter how difficult or challenging it may become." She said. "I swear my life on it, Mother."

The cleric stood, giving a moment of peace to the idol out of respect. In her mind, she prayed for the safety of her mother, for the prosperity of Zofia and the safety of Rigel. She prayed for the end of the war, the end of the pirate scourge and the return of both countries to their monarchs–

 _Follower of Mila... Step into the light._

The words caught the cleric by surprise. Her eyes fluttered open, watching as a golden light surrounded the idol statue. Her mouth agape, she rose to her feet, gingerly taking a step forwards. In the grey stone of the statue, two glimmering eyes, merely slits, opened and focused on Silque. Her breath caught in her throat and she bit down on her lip to stifle a yelp.

 _Step into the light._ The voice said again. Realising that it was not her mind, the cleric took another uneasy step towards the idol and another until she was up the small steps that lead to the idol.

 _Produce the Turnwheel._ It commanded. Her eyes slid down to her robes, noticing a golden glow from underneath them. She gasped as a heady wisp of golden light strung from the idol and to her skirt. With shaky hands, Silque untangled the cord, the Turnwheel falling from her grasp.

Before she could curse herself and inspect the damage, the Turnwheel wavered just an inch from the ground. Take the Turnwheel. The voice said.

Mesmerized by the light, Silque picked up the Turnwheel, her hands clasping tightly around it as she watched it glow blue. "Mila be praised," she whispered under her breath. The cleric looked up to the idol as a blue light swarmed her.

For a moment, everything was dark and still. There was sound, though. A gentle sound. Something like a clock ticking or... _The Turnwheel!_ Silque thought nervously. _As it showed Nomah a vision._ With the gentle, steady tick, heard something else. She strained herself to hear it; a voice, sweet and gentle like mother's, singing.

" _On an ocean of stars... Lo, an angel they see. Untouched by the war, that they waged. A people wounded, but free, seek what lies beyond this dark age. The seasons they turn, winter to spring; dulling the pain and erasing the sting. The seasons turn, sumber to fall. Time's warm embrace begins to heal all._ "

The voice faded quickly, leaving Silque wide-eyed and confused as she clutched the Turnwheel, her gaze never leaving the sacred object. Her breath caught in her throat, the gentle ticking of the Turnwheel never ceased, assuring Silque what she had heard had not been just a dream.

"This is truly a remarkable relic of Mila's power." The cleric murmured to herself as she took a final look at the Turnwheel before tucking it into her robes once more. She bowed before the idol. "Thank you for granting me this vision, Mother Mila."

Though Silque did not understand the meaning of the words she had heard, they hung heavy in her mind as she left the priory and marched for Novis Port, beginning her mission to Ram Village.

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Apprartently this is a rare pair so its time to slam dunk some fucking jesse-silque fics into this abyss  
Idk when this will update again so next see u in 6 years when this game isnt relevant anymore n we get a Thracia 776 remake n everyone's busy romancing Leif lol  
Also i thought long hard abt being lazy n naming this the flirt n the faithful bc i fuckin adore that title but i went against it i hope ur all proud of me not beign as big as an asshat as I could've_

 _thanks for reading~!_


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